Kisngalria 4

Wooden sawhorses blocked the road at the end of the lot. Trams could no longer climb the hill because of ice and snow. Traffic diverted to the backstreets. Even with straw thrown under their feet, horses and carts delivering milk could only reach the sidewalk at the bottom of the hill.

They stood huddled watching from the frozen steps outside their brownstone. Milk was being delivered, as usual, to the store below.

 ‘Hey,’ said Jerome

‘Hey,’ said Charles Parker. ‘I just like you both to know I can run real fast. You need any running, I got to it covered.’

‘That’s good, real good,’ said Jerome. ‘But we don’t need no running. We need a sled. You got a sled – for the snow?’

‘Not exactly,’ Charles Parker puffed himself up, and pulled his wool cap off and brushed his wiry black hair back to make himself taller. ‘But I might know where to get one.’

‘Where?’ said Jerome.

Charles Parker scowled. ‘I ain’t figured that out yet. But when I do, I’ll let you know. I’ll sure let you know.’

‘You do better if you’d let us know that first.’ Where’d you come from anyways? You sure ain’t from around here with your fancy store-bought clothes.’

‘It ain’t his fault,’  said Rose. She looked on with envy and awe at the thick wool cap and matching coat and black slacks that buttoned to his shirt. Boots that fitted snug to his feet and weren’t filled with more holes than cardboard.  Besides, he was almost a head smaller than her. She’d have loved him for that alone. 

 ‘There goes the meanest cop this side of Detroit,’ said Joshua.

Rose glanced at her brother in surprise. The cop was directing traffic. There was nothing new there. But her brother would rather spit than share the time of day with the workings of white cops. She figured he was talking to impress and, despite his store-bought clothes, maybe he’d taken a shine to Charles Parker too.

‘I know where to get a sled,’ said Chares Parker.

‘Where,’ said Rose. She was normally shy with strangers, but he was so small and cute, he didn’t really count.

‘Alaska, off them Eskimos. They’ve got tons of sleds. So many, they just leave them lying about in the snow.’

‘Jeez,’ said Jerome. ‘That’s about the craziest thing I ever heard—even for here.’

‘It’s true.  They all got sleds.’

‘What do they eat?’ said Rose, because she was real hungry. Neither she or her brother had eaten that day or the day before. With long-time shutdown in the black and coloured district, there was no hope of even Jerome making a nickel in the city streets.

‘Oh, they eat whales. Lots of whales. They jump in their canoes and jump on their backs and use a big harpoon to kill them. “There they blow”, the Eskimo shouts.’ Charlie Parker got so excited with mimicking the act that he turned his ankle.

Rose had to grab his gloved hand to stop him falling from the third step, but the snow from the pavement was at that height anyway and would have cushioned his fall. But she liked holding his soft hand.   

He didn’t break off talking. ‘Then they tow the whale home in their canoe and eat it raw, because they don’t know how to make fire. And even if they did, they couldn’t, because it would melt their house plum to the ground.’

Joshua’s dark eyes glinted and he hooted with laughter. ‘Moby Dick,’ he said. ‘You’ve been reading Moby Dick. You’re full of so much hot air that if I set a match under you, you’d sure to get on fire.’

‘It’s true.’ Charles Parker set his face like a spike against Jerome. ‘You callin’ me a darn liar?’

Rose cut in. Joshua was always ordering her about. Battles were epic and one-sided, but Joshua was gracious in victory.  He wasn’t gracious with other boys that challenged him. She put a smile into her voice to placate both of them. ‘What do these Eskimos look like?’

Charlie Parker thought about it. ‘Well, they ain’t white man…And they wear these big furry hoods and big thick jackets to keep themselves warm. And they’ve got boots that never get wet and let you glide across the snow as you walk. And…’ he pointed. ‘They look just like him.’

Kisngalria climbed the hill, clutching the salmon to his chest. He stood looking at shivering children who stared back at him.

Charlie Parker found his voice first. ‘Where’d you come from? Eskimo land?’   

Kisngalria listened to words jumbled in a strange new missionary language, as strange as the tribe of children with a seal-coloured face. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, in their language. ‘I’m trying to find the place where you keep the snow from falling?’

‘Plenty of snow here,’ said Jerome. ‘Open your eyes.’

‘I told you about them Eskimos,’ Charles Parker crowed.